


Hypocrite

by Lynds



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Forgiveness, Gen, Guilt, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Protective Siblings, Sibling Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-05-07 10:21:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14669034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lynds/pseuds/Lynds
Summary: How can Todd possibly expect to be forgiven if he still can't forgive everyone who hurt him?





	Hypocrite

**Author's Note:**

> This is 100% me working through my own issues associated with guilt, forgiveness, child abuse and PTSD. My feelings for the Brotzman siblings is very tangled up in my own issues with my family and at the moment, to be honest, I'm very fucked up about it all, so this is a necessary coping mechanism for me. Todd isn't as angry here as he usually is, he's just feeling small and afraid, and I sort of feel like a person can be a tiny ball of protective rage (or in my case a giant ball of it) while still sometimes shrinking down to a terrified puddle of uselessness! I literally wrote this in half an hour and am posting it before I lose my nerve, so please excuse any mistakes!

“I went to see Dad,” says Todd, and he hates how pitchy his voice gets. How even the words make his emotions prickle his skin.

“What?” Amanda’s head snaps up and she stares at him in - is that disgust? “No, no, why would you do that?”

Todd shrugs. “Uh. I dunno. He said he wanted to see me.”

“You fucking idiot!” She clutches her forehead, her eyes shut in despair and he feels his shoulder slump a little, because he’s not strong enough. He disappointed her. She sighs, and he’s pretty sure she’s rolling her eyes. “What happened?”

“Nothing much. Just talked, you know how it is.”

“Uh-huh. You know I’ll just ask Dirk, right?”

Ice creeps down his spine and he feels bile rising in his throat. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat. He’s so fucking weak, why did he think telling her would be a good idea? Did he actually think she’d be proud of him for trying to forgive their father? She hates him more than Todd ever did, he doesn’t know why. Whatever Dad did to her must have been awful but they’re Brotzmanns, and he’s never asked.

There's the sound of cloth on leather and the touch on his arm makes him flinch enough to take her hand away, and he’s so angry with himself! He should have stayed still, that’s the first time she’s touched him since Wendimoor and he ruined it. “Todd, tell me what Dad said.”

_‘Fucking faggot.’_

Todd flinches like the words were spoken aloud again, like they’re not just in his memory. “He’s not feeling so great. The cancer’s spreading.”

“That’s not what I asked. Why did he ask to see you?”

_‘After all you did, you can’t even face your old man?’_

“I think he just wanted to reconnect, you know? I haven’t spoken to him in years, I guess it’s time I let it go.”

Amanda snorts. “Fuck, no! Why would you think that?”

“You don’t think I should forgive him? It’s been years, it’s in the past.” And he has to. He needs to know it can be done.

“Does he even _want_ forgiveness? Did he ask you to forgive him?”

“Not this time. He has done.”

“Oh yeah, I remember what that’s like. _‘Aren’t you ever gonna get over it? Quit being such a pussy and forgive me already.’_ Sound familiar?”

“He never—“

“No? Cos that’s what I heard that Christmas. What were you, twenty five? He was standing over you with his fists clenched and demanding you forgive him! That’s not an apology, Todd!”

“He’s… he’s got a point…”

“No he hasn’t! Has he ever said he’s sorry for being a homophobic ass? Has he ever said he’s sorry for splitting your lip when you were ten?”

Todd takes a deep breath, scrunches his face up. “I mean, I know why those things happened. He’s never been… well. He coulda benefitted from some therapy back then, you know? It wasn’t all his fault—“

“You were ten! Don’t you make excuses for that asshole!”

He clasps his hands between his knees. “Sorry, ‘Manda. I shouldn’t have said anything, I know he was worse to you.”

She cocks her head, he can just see it out of his peripheral vision. “What? No, he wasn’t. Never laid a hand on me.”

Todd blinks down at his knuckles, turning white. “But then… why do you hate him?”

She’s silent for a moment. “You’re such an asshole.”

He knows. He always has been. He’s surly and ungrateful and a complete hypocrite because he can’t forgive but he expects to be forgiven. The air feels like ice and fire in his lungs, not in an attack sort of way, but in a not-enough-oxygen sort of way and he wishes he could stop existing, just blink out of reality. He wonders if Amanda will say anything else before she leaves. He wonders if he can bear the pain of it, but he has to, because he deserves it, for what he did. He wonders how long it’ll be before Dirk stops lying to himself and realises Todd’s not worth forgiving.

And then there are arms wrapping tight around him and he gasps, and at some point it turns into a sob. Amanda’s leather-clad arms are tight around his back and her hand cradles his head against her shoulder as he trembles and the sobs escape with the smallest of sounds, just like they’re back in that old house, hiding in his bedroom after Dad went crazy again. And he knows he doesn’t deserve this but he’s so fucking grateful for this. He can’t hold onto her like he wants to, he has to make sure she doesn’t feel trapped by his needy bullshit, but she’s rocking him and hushing and he is breaking in her arms and as much as it hurts so bad he doesn’t want it to stop.

“I know what you’re doing,” she whispers into his hair, and he wishes she’d tell him, because he hasn’t a clue.

She pulls back and he sways towards her, craving more, before pulling back and wiping his face angrily. He glances up at her, and her mascara’s smudged. His heart sinks, because he never wanted to make her cry, never again, and he can’t help pulling all these people he loves into his shitshow.

“You’re nothing like him, Todd,” she says fiercely, tiny, strong hands gripping his upper arms. “Don’t put yourself in the same category as him.”

“I’m not—“

“You are, you fucking asshole. I know exactly what you’re doing. You think if you can forgive him, that means you’ll be worthy of forgiveness, but it doesn’t work like that and I can’t believe you’d think so little of me!”

His blood runs cold, his eyes widen. “I never! I didn’t— I don’t—“

“Oh, stop!” Her lips are wobbling and her eyes brim over, and his hands hover around her shoulders because he’s broken something _again_ and he doesn’t know what to do, why does he never know what to do? She gulps and wipes her eyes and he’s terrified she’s going to push him away, shove him on his ass like she did the first time he went with the Rowdies. “You’re not like him, Todd,” she whispers.

“I… I know I’m not?” 

But he is, isn’t he? A voice curls inside him like a venomous snake, speaking nothing but the truth. He hurt her, and then he demanded forgiveness for the unforgivable.

Amanda looks at him and read something in him, he doesn’t know what. But it’s obviously bad, because she puts her face in her hands and cries, and he hasn’t seen that since before Dirk showed up. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers, and puts his hand on her back tentatively.

“You did some bad things, Todd,” she sobs. “But you know they’re bad, you know, and you’re better. You fucked up, but you’re changing. And our relationship isn’t ever going to go back to what it was, but that’s… that’s OK, you know? You know I don’t hate you?” She grabs his hands suddenly, looking at him desperately out of tear smudged eyes. “I forgave you, you know that, right? Back in Wendimoor?”

He swallows, afraid to break the moment, afraid to find out he’s dreaming.

“I know we’re not like we were, and we never will be, but that’s… OK. It’s different, but it’s because we’re different. Forgiving someone doesn’t mean forgetting what they did, but it does mean you’re willing to love them anyway, and I do love you.”

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers again, because he is, and he can’t quite believe this - he certainly doesn’t deserve it.

“I know, asshole,” she laughs wetly, and hugs him tight again. This time he puts his hands up and curls his arms around her ribs. “But that doesn’t mean you have to forgive everything that’s been done to you.”

“But how can I expect anyone to forgive me if I can’t forgive other people?” he whispers, almost to himself.

“Because it’s different,” she says, pulling back but leaving one arm draped on his shoulders. She’s calmer now, as she wipes the smudged tears and makeup under he eyes with her thumb. “I think… if you hadn’t given me space, I wouldn’t have been able to forgive you. But you understood my new boundaries, you were cool with me going off with the guys - well, maybe not cool with it, but you accepted it. You let me forgive you at my own pace.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to forgive me,” he admits. “I wouldn’t be able to.”

She snorts, and it’s pretty disgusting. He hands her a tissue and crinkles his nose, and she smiles and gives him the finger. “You tried to forgive our dad, the man who’s been calling you cissy, pansy and fairy since you were about eight, I think you need to give yourself more credit.”

“I couldn’t though,” he says, and he’s angry with how his own tears well up again and fall. He turns his face. “I couldn’t forgive him. How can I ever expect that from other people?”

“You can’t. That’s not how it works. If you’re expecting forgiveness, you probably don’t deserve it, because it doesn’t come on your terms.” She rubs the back of his neck between fingers and thumb. “He expects it of you, doesn’t he?”

He can’t answer, because he’d bawl like a pathetic baby. He nods instead. She hugs him again and he holds her elbow, and there’s a knot lodged behind his chest that loosens and drifts away as she kisses him on the back of his head.


End file.
